Few would imagine that in that fast-decaying city, Dublin, are to be found some of the finest and most architectural specimens of the nobleman’s house. It is pitiable to see these stately piles falling into ruin, or turned to baser and, at least, unsuitable uses. There are some half a dozen still remaining, worthy of admiration from their beautiful proportion, noble and spacious apartments, and exquisite stucco. The Duke of Leinster’s in Merrion Square is now occupied by the Royal Dublin Society. Another, in William Street, belongs to a commercial firm; Lord Alborough’s, a name long associated with Mr. Holloway and the “cure of a bad leg of long standing,” with its private theatre and chapel forming two wings, has become a barrack. Lord Charlemont’s, in Rutland Square, designed by Sir W. Chambers, is a public office. The friezes, ceilings, and other decorative works in these places are truly astonishing and indeed incomparable, and, it is said, a number of Italian artists were brought over specially for the work. Nothing indeed shows the decay of taste so much as the contrast between the older patterns of chimneypiece and the new. Not many years ago there was a sort of _bande noire_ established in Dublin, who bought up all these artistic fittings, with the result that almost every old house in the county was ruthlessly stripped of its adornments, which were taken away to embellish newly-built houses in London. One private gentleman, who was concerned in a building speculation, secured no less than forty or fifty chimney-pieces at one swoop! An imposing pile of building rises on one side of Piccadilly, between the Arcade and the Albany, whose great archway leads to the most popular of exhibitions, that of the Royal Academy. This pretentious and florid mass is already grey and ancient-looking. Yet not many years back its place was filled by a long, prison-like, well-grimed, and very dead wall, literally blackened with the dirt of a century, and more. In the centre was a huge, massive gateway, that might have opened into Newgate. This forlorn-looking place was old Burlington House, which seemed as though no one ever lived in, or entered it. Few supposed that within there was a building and architectural combination of an original order, which had often excited the admiration of connoisseurs--the work of the _dilettante_ Earl of that name, whose skill is still to be admired in the spacious York Assembly Rooms, for which he furnished designs. In his alterations of his house in Piccadilly there was much pleasing grace. It was of only two stories, which can still be noticed, but they are now groaning under the superimposed third story laid on them by the modern architect. They seem to protest---- Lie heavy on him, earth, for he Laid many a heavy load on thee.